Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

M ick didn't answer. He'd gone to Many Farms to spend time with my family, most especially with my father and my grandmother. Dad had moved in with his new wife, Gina, in Farmington, but he made the drive to Many Farms a couple of times a week to check on Grandmother. Not that she didn't have all my aunts and cousins to look after her, but Dad was a worrier. Plus, he loved her.

Mick and I were marrying in June. Mick wanted to make sure that my dad truly accepted him, hence his many visits. Also, Mick didn't want to violate any procedure when we had the wedding, though I tried to assure him that simply going to the courthouse in Hopi County would be fine.

But no, Mick wanted ceremony. Dragons were into that. My grandmother approved—the two of them were working on having us wed in the traditional Diné manner and in our local church. I pretended I wasn't worried about how elaborate their plans would be.

The problem was, I needed to talk to Mick now . I knew Drake fully expected me to tell Mick about the egg—he probably counted on Mick's protection as well.

Mick and Dad might be out in the middle of the desert bonding, leaving phones turned off or behind altogether. I didn't want to call Grandmother and ask where they were, because she'd know something was up and start grilling me.

I highly suspected that Grandmother, who could turn into a crow—or project her consciousness into a crow, I wasn't certain which—already knew about the events of the evening.

By the time I gave up calling Mick and left my office, the Horribles were at last taking themselves out the door to seek dinner. They waved and yelled their goodbyes to me and Cassandra, and we politely waved back. The oldest daughter, Yvonne, turned after the bulk of her family had poured out the door.

"Who was that guy who came in with you?" she shouted across the lobby. "He was soooo good-looking. Is he single? Or do you have your hooks into him?"

I smiled tightly. "He's a friend."

"Is he coming back tonight? You can't have him, you know. You have Mick." Yvonne smirked.

And you're married, I wanted to remind her. "Really, he's just a friend."

"Sure, Janet." Yvonne gave me a broad wink then hurried out to the impatient shouts of her family.

Cassandra sighed in relief once the door had closed. Through the front window, we watched the family cram themselves into two separate cars to head into Magellan and its one diner.

"I will be very glad when this week is over," Cassandra said. She shivered. "Though I heard them suggest this would be a great place to spend the summer."

I regarded Cassandra in dismay. "Then we need to convince them it's not . It will be way too hot here. Right?"

"They haven't come to any conclusions." Cassandra smoothed a strand of hair that had dared unravel itself from her French braid. "With any luck, they'll be halfway home before the argument about whether to stay or go is resolved."

"Let's hope."

Cassandra was usually very professional and impersonal about guests, but the Horribles had gotten under her skin. The youngest daughter, Allie, claimed to be psychic and said she'd come to Magellan to connect with the vortexes.

When Cassandra pointed out that the vortexes were actually quite dangerous—not an exaggeration—Allie had scoffed and said she'd already absorbed vortex magic from the ancients. Allie declared that Cassandra was obviously non-magical and had no idea what she was talking about.

I doubted Allie could do any damage to herself, because her aura was devoid of magic. Cassandra, though, had become angry. Even pretending to touch the vortexes might bring a backlash, and then Cassandra would have to rescue the idiot woman and clean up the mess.

I couldn't disagree with the name Cassandra dubbed the family with, because so far, they were the most demanding and least pleased guests we'd ever had. Even though they spoke of everything with a laugh and told us the hotel was fabulous, they weren't happy with anything—the choice of rooms, the view, the beds, the bathrooms, right down to the hot water, which was plentiful, thanks to Fremont's plumbing and Maya, our talented electrician .

They also dared to complain about the food, sending back many of their meals. They were heading for the diner this evening because Elena, our chef, now refused to cook for them.

Once the lobby was deserted, I told Cassandra in a low voice about Drake's errand. She listened with widening eyes, her hands stilling on her keyboard.

"I'll strengthen the wards," Cassandra said, once I'd finished. "If any word of this leaks out … You have no idea how valuable a dragon egg is, do you?"

"You don't just mean because of its gold and emeralds, do you?" I asked then sighed in resignation. "I'll help with the wards. Though my biggest worry is, where am I going to keep him?"

My first thought had been my basement, which held an ancient pool of shamanistic magic that could deter any threat. Elena wielded that magic with the ease of a master.

However, Ansel also lived in the basement. Though he was a good guy at heart, and often spent nights with his girlfriend in Santa Fe, he was a Nightwalker. He sated his bloodlust with cow's blood Elena obtained from a butcher in Flagstaff, but if he woke up in a hungry Nightwalker rage one evening, and an egg with a dragon in it was within his reach …

Ansel fought his urges well, but I couldn't risk it.

My office wasn't the most secure room in the hotel, I thought as I headed back into it, but none of the others would offer any better protection against dragons. My private rooms would be best, but even those had multiple entrances. I relied on our wards to keep evil at bay, but a determined dragon could simply crash through the walls or roof .

I needed Mick's advice. He'd put the problem through his logical dragon brain and spit out an answer. I'd have to risk interrupting his quiet time with Dad to ask him.

I didn't want to use the eavesdropping magic mirror to contact him, though, so I called Gabrielle, my half-sister who shared my crazy-making Beneath magic.

Gabrielle now worked in a glitzy Las Vegas hotel—the C —protecting people from wickedness there. She was far more powerful than most supernatural beings that might invade that building. Many guests went to the C for a paranormal experience, and Gabrielle made certain they didn't bring in anything more dangerous than battery-operated votive candles.

However, she'd taken some time off to visit Many Farms this week, and she might know where I could find Mick.

The fact that Gabrielle was visiting Grandmother voluntarily said a lot about how much she'd matured, in her own way.

Gabrielle picked up right away. "I'm a little busy right now, but never too busy for you , big sis."

I heard whistles and yells in the background, and what sounded like a crowd alternately cheering or groaning.

"Where are you?" I asked in confusion.

"Your old high school." Her voice receded from the phone. "Oh, come on. That was a foul, ref. Are you blind?"

"Seriously, what are you doing?"

A shrill whistle sounded right in my ear, and I jerked the phone from my face. "Time out!" Gabrielle yelled. "Come on, gather in." She returned to me. "I'm coaching the girls' basketball team."

"You're coaching … What? "

Gabrielle had switched her attention away from me. "Okay, we're doing great out there. Watch out for number 5. She has a long reach, and she can slap the ball out from under you. If you're in possession when she's near, pass as soon as you can. She's a good interceptor, so keep it away from her. And Katie, great shot. All of you are playing some amazing ball."

"You answered the phone in the middle of a game?" I asked in disbelief.

"This is Janet." Gabrielle's voice became muffled. "She used to go to school here. Say hi, everyone."

"Hi, Janet!" a group of adrenaline-spiked girls chorused.

Another whistle signaled the end of the time out. "All right," Gabrielle sang. "Go out there and kick some ass."

"Yes, Coach!" The girls yelled with enthusiasm and pounded away.

"They needed someone," Gabrielle said before I could ask more questions. "The last coach had to leave unexpectedly—family thing. Your aunt Ida recommended that I fill in. I played when I was in high school, so I know a little bit about basketball. The rest I looked up on the internet."

I listened in a daze. "That was nice of you," I said when I could speak again. "You're doing this one game?"

"No, no. I'm hired on for the rest of the season and contracted again for next year."

"But you already have a job," I pointed out.

"I can commute. Especially when I have a dragon standing by to fly me back and forth. Colby's happy to help out."

Gabrielle sounded so excited, so confident , that I decided to shut up. She'd been a dangerous mess when I'd first met her, which was no wonder with all the shit she'd been through. If Aunt Ida, who was as much a stickler about good behavior as Grandmother, thought Gabrielle would be a competent coach, then maybe she was a competent coach. Gabrielle could be very persuasive when she wanted something, but I doubted even the most powerful magic would influence stern, no-nonsense Aunt Ida.

"You're only coaching them, right?" I took on a severe tone. "Not helping them win with a little spark of magic?"

Gabrielle laughed. "You'd think that, wouldn't you? But I don't have to use magic to help them win. They're already awesome. Now, what do you want?"

"Do you know where Mick is?" I asked quickly. "I can't reach him."

"He drove out with Pete to watch the moonrise. They go out to the mountain a lot, but they don't do anything. They just sit there and look at it."

That sounded like Dad. "Thank you. Good luck with the game."

"It's not luck, Janet," Gabrielle said seriously. "It's training and athletics. Oh, now that was a foul. Come on, ref!"

The phone went silent. I studied it for a time, letting the idea seep through my brain that my half-insane, Beneath-magic filled, wild little sister was coaching girls' basketball. Well.

Someone would have to explain to her that yelling at the refs might get her kicked out of the game, but otherwise she was busy amazing me.

I'd have to wait to talk to Mick. My dad and I had often driven on fine nights to the flat-topped mountain near our home to watch the moonrise. No phones, no radio, nothing but us, the world, and silence. We hadn't needed to talk.

That Dad was making this journey with Mick meant Dad truly liked him. Trusted him. Wanted to bring him into our family, as chaotic as it was.

I laid down the phone and peered into the open bowling bag on my desk, observing the smooth, pale egg. "I guess you're stuck with me, kid."

Did I imagine that the egg wobbled again? I put my hand on it, but it was still. Warm. As I rested my touch there, it began to vibrate, like a cat purring.

"Poor little one," I said. "Don't worry. I'll look after you."

How I would, I had no idea.

I ended my debate by deciding that until Mick and I came up with a better solution, I'd simply tote the egg around with me. I could best protect it by being next to it all the time. People would wonder at my fondness for the bowling bag, but let them be curious. Everyone thought I was weird anyway.

The hotel was fortunately quiet at the moment, now that the Horribles had gone out. A few of our guests were enjoying Elena's five-star meal in the saloon, but others had dispersed to the eateries in nearby towns. Magellan only had one diner, but Flat Mesa, north of here, had a couple of family places plus a few fast-food joints, and nearby Winslow had a fabulous restaurant at their restored railway hotel.

When I ducked into the saloon, the bowling bag's sturdy strap draped over my shoulder, the mirror behind the bar came alert. I felt its attention home in on the bag.

"What'cha got there, Janet?"

I glanced quickly around the room because anyone magical could hear the mirror. All the guests were focused on Elena's cooking, however, and not paying attention. Four of the patrons dining together were human, and another table held a Wiccan couple.

I surreptitiously pointed my finger at the mirror. "I'll tell you later, but you keep it quiet. That's an order."

"Oh, girlfriend, you're no fun." The mirror went silent, however, because it did have to obey me. It found plenty of ways to get around that rule, but for now, it shut up.

Headlights flashed through the cracked windows, and Nash's black pickup stopped outside the front door.

Hand on the bag's strap, I moved back into the lobby. A few moments later, Nash stomped in, towing his grandfather, who was still handcuffed. Cassandra rose to watch them intently.

"He needs to stay here," was Nash's greeting to me as he unlocked the cuffs. "I'm too busy to look after him tonight."

Jones Senior sent his grandson a long-suffering stare as he rubbed his wrists in relief. "He means his jail is too shitty for me to sleep in, but he doesn't want me in his house."

"This isn't a detention center," I said to Nash. "I thought you arrested him for stealing a truck and dangerous driving."

"The owner of the pickup says he lent it to him," Nash snapped, displeased. "He'll have to answer to the reckless driving charges, but the defense attorney got him freed. "

"Conflict of interest with the arresting officer," Grandad Jones said with a chuckle.

I'd already observed that the older Jones looked much like the younger. Under the soft illumination in the hotel instead of the glare of headlights, the resemblance was even stronger. Both men had square faces, athletic builds, and gray eyes. Grandad's white-gray hair was cut short, similar to Nash's military buzz.

The difference was that Grandad looked as though he enjoyed the hell out of life while Nash had chosen to close himself off from it. Nash had gone through a bucketload of shit when he'd been in a war, with the PTSD to show for it. While I felt sorry for Nash about that, people around Hopi County had told me he'd actually softened since his return from duty.

"There's another motel in town," I pointed out. Emilio Salas's brother owned The Magellan Inn, which filled up with tourists during the high season. "Closer to shops and food."

"It's not secure," Nash said.

"And my hotel is?" I asked in surprise. "Guests come and go as they please. Their key cards open the front door after hours."

"But you can make it so you know when he leaves."

"He means the wards," Cassandra said. "I'm sorry, Sheriff Jones, but those don't work on the non-magical, and Carl is non-magical."

Aha, Grandad's name was Carl. Not that Nash had bothered with that information, but Cassandra made it her business to find out everything about everyone.

"You can make an exception," Nash stated.

This was true. We could spell the hotel so we were alerted when a specific person went through the wards. How Nash knew that I wasn't certain, but Nash was full of surprises.

"You have your own house," I said to Nash. "In Flat Mesa. I've been there, remember? It's nice, and I hear you have several unused bedrooms."

Carl scoffed. "He doesn't want me there messing up his relationship with that pretty young woman. She is stunning , Nash. How did you convince her to put up with you?"

I wondered if Maya would be annoyed with Nash for bringing his grandfather home with him, or whether she and Carl would join forces to make Nash's life hell. The second scenario, I was thinking, was probably the real reason Nash had brought him to us.

Everyone wanted me to babysit their strays today.

"Do you mind a room on the ground floor?" Cassandra asked Carl in her professional tones. "We're fully booked upstairs, but this suite will give you more privacy."

The suite was new, opening from the narrow hall between the lobby and my office. It had its own patio and minibar and was our most expensive room. We didn't have many bookings for it yet.

Carl scowled at Cassandra, which made him look even more like his grandson. "Do you think I'm too old to walk upstairs? I still run marathons, you know."

"Five Ks," Nash corrected him. "But yes, he's fit enough for your third floor."

Where we could lock him in. A ground-floor room with a private patio meant Jones Senior could more easily get away.

"The suite will be more suitable," Cassandra said firmly. "Especially if we don't know how long you intend to stay. "

"Until my grandchildren treat me with some respect," Carl spat. "Might be a long time."

"I don't want him coming and going without my knowledge," Nash said.

Cassandra gave Nash a sweet smile. She was one of the few in town not intimidated by the sheriff. "I am very good at keeping an eye on my guests. The suite is our most comfortable room and one we don't have need of right now."

Also, the Horribles had taken over upstairs. Cassandra was trying to spare Carl that pain.

"It's settled," I said. "I'll grab the key."

Nash was displeased, but if he wanted to foist his grandfather off on us, he'd have to do this our way.

Carl brightened. "Sounds nice to me. Tell Ada to pack my clothes and send them on." He shot Nash a grin and followed me to the back hall.

Cassandra handed me the key as I passed the reception desk, and I unlocked the door that led to the new, and quiet, guest quarters.

The "suite" was really a large bedroom with a sitting area, a fireplace—gas, fitted with a timer—a minibar with fridge, and a door to a patio. The patio was surrounded by a low stucco wall and gave a nice view of the desert to the east and north. The hotel's kitchen wall on the right screened the patio from the public area and fire pit out back.

Carl whistled appreciatively as he gazed around. "This is a hell of a lot nicer than that crap place in Flagstaff. I'll take it."

"Is that why you ran away?" I asked him. "The crap place? "

His cheeriness dimmed. "A number of reasons. Grandchildren are supposed to be a comfort in your old age. Mine are trying to control the world because it pisses them off."

A good description of Nash. I hadn't met his cousin Ada—I wondered if she was the female version of him.

"You like bowling that much?" Carl demanded as he squinted at my bag.

"What? Oh." I flushed and held the bag more tightly against me. "No. It's just something I?—"

"Some good lanes in Flag. I prefer the shooting range, myself. That is, when my pesky keepers let me off the leash."

I did not want to get into this family squabble, so I kept my tone neutral. "If Ada doesn't send you your things, make a list of what you need. I can have Flora run into town for you."

Carl opened the door to the patio and stepped out. He inhaled the dry, clean night air and let out a long breath. " This is more like it. You don't need to run errands for me, sweetie. I'm perfectly capable of shopping for myself, and I have my own money." He hesitated. "I might need a ride, though. Nash impounded my friend's truck."

"Someone really did lend it to you?"

"Larry was my partner in crime for my getaway. We spotted Ada coming, so I hightailed it. I was going to hide out at Dusty's, but I guess someone alerted the cops to look out for me." Carl shrugged. "I figured if I pissed off the bikers, they'd cause a diversion, and I could get away."

Some diversion. He'd brought half the state charging after him into my parking lot.

I sympathized with the guy, but I needed to set rules of my own. If I didn't, Nash would simply drag him back to whatever assisted living center he'd been in, or someplace with tighter security. "If you're going to stay here?—"

"What's that?" Carl peered into the darkness, cupping his hands around his eyes to shut out the porch light.

I clutched the bag closer. "What's what?"

"There." He pointed. "I saw a light."

"That's not unusual. People hike at night on the railroad bed."

Seconds later, I knew Carl hadn't spotted hikers with flashlights.

A bright white light flared out in the hills beyond, but it wasn't lightning from a natural storm. A sudden wash of heat burst over the desert, and the light blasted again, closer this time.

There was a pop and a bang, and the electricity in the hotel shut down, leaving us in dark silence.